Drink to Friendship

Shattered wine glass

Me drink to Friendship? No. That dark chalice
Of poison proffered under a false name.
The word ‘friend’ used to veneer conscious malice
Which cultivates a scapegoat then to blame.
I hurl the cup and smash it to the ground
Its honied contents once were sweet to taste
Until I drained its murky dregs and found
Hypocrisy that true friendship disgraced.
I once hungered for friendship soul to soul
And mind to mind. It was a lonely dream
Never returned. My single burning coal
Of hope long drowned in apathy’s cold stream.
“I’ll drink no more to friendship.” then I said.
“True friends are books written by authors dead.”


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